Brides of Iowa (59 page)

He grabbed the bit of material and examined it, and then he raised his eyes to sweep the area. “Susan! Susan, can you hear me?”

Was the child wearing a yellow dress today at the picnic? He had no idea and couldn’t remember if anyone had mentioned how the little girl was dressed. Holding the scrap aloft, he entreated God once again.

“Lord, is this hers? Did she come this way?” He searched the area around the stump to see if he could find anything else to indicate Tessa and Gideon’s daughter had passed by there.

The sun hovered at the horizon. It would soon be dusk—usually his favorite time of day. But not today. He whispered the name of Jesus to fend off pangs of despair. Over the past several months, he’d taken to singing whatever hymn he could recall from the previous Sunday to carry him through many difficult days. He racked his brain, trying to retrieve a hymn from his memory. Only one came to mind.

“Just as I am without one plea.” He lifted his raspy voice, hoping Susan might hear and respond to the song.

Clutching the yellow scrap in his fingers, he pushed forward. The words of the song arrested his conscious thought. God, in His graciousness, hadn’t refused to accept him, even with his past arrogance, deceit, and selfishness. God faithfully cleansed him of sin. But once redeemed, he’d refused to accept his own appearance, convinced he’d never be fit for polite company, and no woman would ever want to spend her life with him. How offensive his attitude must be to God.

“Lord, I’m sorry. I think I understand now. When I came to You just the way I was, You rescued me from my sinful self. But ever since then, I’ve hated my own reflection. You took me as I am. Now I choose to take me…just as I am.” Instead of leaving a bitter taste, the notion of accepting himself, scars and all, was sweetly liberating. He slowed his steps and raised his eyes and his hands heavenward.

“Thank You, Lord.” Resentment drained from him like water from a sieve. “Thank You.”

The last sliver of sun was gone, and all that remained were the fading rays. He came to a small clearing and stopped, slowly scanning for some other indication that Susan had been there. An area of grass was matted flat, perhaps where a deer had lain down. Or a child.

“Susan!”

He listened. Nothing.

A huge orange moon was already rising in the darkening sky. “God, I won’t be discouraged. You haven’t brought me this far to abandon me. I trust You, Lord.”

He judged direction by the waning light from the west. If he circled back toward town now, he could approach the church from a different angle and cover an area he’d not yet searched. Shadows deepened, and the air held a chill. Everett stopped to pull a thorny vine from his sleeve. A high-pitched wail carried on the shifting wind. Everett jerked his head up. Was it the cry of a child? He stood motionless, waiting to hear it again, to determine from which direction it came. When the eerie sound reached his ears once more, a shudder filled his being. It was the howl of a wolf.

P
oison darts of helplessness pierced Tillie’s heart as the pastor’s wife coaxed Tessa to the parsonage to rest for a while. How she wished there was something more she could do. Not having a child of her own, she could only imagine the searing ache attacking Tessa’s heart. Determined to stay busy, she headed toward the long plank table, whispering repeated prayers for strength and courage.

Several ladies remained at the church while their husbands were out searching. Tillie joined them, offering sandwiches and coffee to the men who returned empty-handed but in need of a fresh horse. Regret pinched her. If only she hadn’t promised Everett she’d stay put at the church. She knew this countryside far better than Everett did. Standing around handing out cups of coffee felt so…“Useless.”

Pearl Behr slipped over and touched Tillie’s shoulder. “Before Hubert left to go searching, he gave me the key to the mercantile and told me to take anything out of the storeroom that was needed. Would you mind coming along and helping me carry some lanterns and coal oil?”

Pearl’s request sent an involuntary shiver down her spine as she glanced toward the west. The sun’s fading rays set the sky afire with red and purple. The men would need lanterns soon. How she wished to hear three shots echoing across the hills. Nausea tightened her throat, but she nodded. “Of course.”

Pearl patted her shoulder, and the two of them hurried off toward the mercantile. Tillie peered at Pearl’s profile as they walked. “Tessa told me that you’ve been like a second mother to her.”

The woman gave Tillie a tiny smile. “I suppose.” Her voice sounded tight. “Little Susan is like the grandchild I never had.” The distress that grew hour by hour showed in the deepened lines on Pearl’s face, and Tillie’s heart longed to offer comfort, but the words wouldn’t form in the right order.

“I heard Cully say he was going to make some torches to put around the churchyard in case…” She bit back the words she didn’t want to speak.

As they stepped up onto the boardwalk in front of the store, Tillie noted the lengthening shadows and the dipping temperature. Another whispered entreaty—part of her continuous prayer—winged toward the throne of heaven. While she appreciated Cully’s thoughtfulness in supplying the torches, she prayed Susan would be found before darkness set in, and neither the torches nor the lanterns would be necessary.

Pearl slid the key into the lock and pushed the door open. “Hubert and your brother Phillip went east. He said they planned to go as far as Rock Creek and zigzag back through the hills.”

Tillie frowned. “Rock Creek is almost two miles from here. Susan never could have gotten that far. She has to be somewhere close, somewhere we haven’t looked.” They paused for a moment to look at each other. “But where haven’t we already looked?”

Pearl began pulling lanterns off the storeroom shelf and handing them to Tillie. “Some of the ladies got tired of waiting and went to retrace their steps over many of the places around town that have already been searched. Maybe someone will find her curled up asleep.”

They each took as many lanterns as they could carry, along with a can of coal oil, and made their way back to the church. No rifle shots or the church bell ringing had called to them while on their errand. They arranged the lanterns on the plank table opposite the coffeepots.

Since Tessa was in Mrs. Witherspoon’s capable hands, Tillie felt free to slip into the church for a solitary moment of prayer. Muted noises and voices from the churchyard followed her, but none carried the joyful excitement of good news.

The hours since Everett left had crawled by. She tried to fill the time, keeping her hands occupied with helpful tasks, but more important than brewing pots of coffee or making sandwiches was keeping her promise to Everett. The only thing he’d requested, other than for her to remain at the church, was for prayer, and she set her heart to honor his request. Intercession for Everett’s protection and Susan’s safe return flowed between her lips and heaven. The imploring tone of his voice and the memory of his face when he’d insisted she stay behind where she’d be safe brushed her senses. So much of their time together over the past months she’d spent looking at only his profile in the shadows—she’d never had the opportunity to look into the depth of his eyes. Most of the time he’d kept his heart as guarded as his countenance, but there were a few moments that had revealed brief glimpses into the things that molded Everett’s character. Only on rare occasions had Everett shared anything of a more personal nature. Vulnerability wasn’t something he allowed, and to finally see uncloaked emotion on his face had left her breathless.

She sank to her knees and leaned her elbows on a pew, holding her head in her hands. The moment she closed her eyes, images of Everett and Susan—and wolves—emerged in her mind.

“He’s doing the same thing he did the day he ran into the burning boardinghouse, Lord. He’s hidden his face for a year, and what drew him out from behind his defensive stronghold was hearing a child was in danger. It’s like he’s running into a burning building again, except this time he’s tramping around in the woods and hills unarmed, with wolves in the area.” Tears burned her eyes, and she swiped at her nose with her sleeve. “He’s not thinking of himself at all. Lord, please keep him safe. He didn’t even take a gun.”

Her chest tightened. “Lord, of course my heart is burdened for Susan’s safety and Tessa’s anguish. But as always, I’m lifting Everett up to You. Everything I have ever felt for this man is magnified.

“You’ve heard my prayers asking You to put Everett and me together. I even ran ahead of You and tried to make it happen using my own selfish devices, because I wasn’t willing to wait for You to reveal Your plan to me. Lord, that was wrong. Please forgive my impatience and impulsiveness. There are no secrets from You. You already know I love Everett, and I ask You now, if my love for him isn’t Your will, then please remove this love from my heart. And if Everett doesn’t love me, please give me the grace to accept it.”

Tears welled and spilled over. Uttering the words, even to God, impacted her with such force it nearly knocked the breath from her. Rushing headlong into her own plans had ended in disaster. Waiting for God’s plan to unfold stretched her trust further than she had believed possible.

“Dear God, my heart is in Your hands. You are everything I need. The longing of my heart is for Everett and me to be together, but even more than that I want to be obedient to You.” She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “You are my rock, Lord Jesus.”

She dug in her pocket for her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “Please be with Everett as he searches. Be with all the men, watch over them, and please, dear Lord, please let one of them find Susan soon. Prayer is the most important thing I can do. I’m sorry for feeling so impatient, wanting to do more.”

Tillie continued in prayer, begging God for His mercy and protection for Susan, comfort for Tessa, and strength for the men searching. She opened her eyes and raised her head off the pew at which she was kneeling. The air had turned chilly, and the fading light that had accompanied her into the church was gone. She pushed away from the pew and rose from her knees. There were lanterns to fill.

Everett tipped his head up and watched with appreciation as the moon slowly rose higher in the inky sky, gradually changing from orange to gold to bright white as it ascended. He couldn’t remember ever seeing such a large, bright moon, bathing the countryside in silver. Tillie’s father had said something about a harvest moon. Everett didn’t know the difference between a regular moon and a harvest moon, but as he gazed across the illuminated landscape, he whispered his gratefulness to God for supplying just what he needed to pick his way through the darkness.

The underbrush gave way to meadow grass as he emerged from the woods. He hoped he would come across another stream or spring. Why hadn’t he thought to bring a canteen with him? His throat was parched with thirst and raw from yelling Susan’s name.

“If I’d used common sense, I’d have taken a few minutes to borrow a canteen and a gun.” He shook his head at his foolish impulsiveness.

His feet throbbed and legs ached from hours of hiking, and weariness dogged him. Oh, how he’d love to lie down in the grass and indulge in blessed sleep. But the memory of the wolf howl he’d heard earlier continued to send chilling echoes through his mind. He pushed on.

A few clouds drifted lazily, occasionally obscuring the pale light. Everett paused, waiting for the spooky veil that slowed his progress to move away from the moon. Maybe he should take a few minutes to rest. No, the picture he’d burned into his mind of Susan’s distraught mother wouldn’t let him stop.

A few trees dotted the meadow, and many of them had shed much of their foliage. Drizzled with mottled moonlight, the branches created curious patterns overhead. The temperature had dropped rapidly once the sun disappeared, and the scent of frost piqued his awareness. It was unlikely Susan wore a coat, and he imagined the little tyke shivering in the cold.

Quiescence reigned over the landscape. Only an occasional breeze rattled the remaining leaves, but even the slight wafting made the air feel colder. At least when there was no wind, he could hear more clearly.

A rustling sound stopped him in his tracks. He turned his head in the direction from which he thought the noise had come, only to hear it again, this time coming from near the woods. The clouds chose that moment to draw their shroud over the moon, plunging him into near blackness. His heart pounded in his ears, and despite the chill in the air, beads of sweat popped out on his upper lip. He tried to hold his breath, but his lungs betrayed him by sucking in a raspy hiss.

Another crackling sound behind him, like stepping on fallen leaves, sent a shudder through him. It might simply be a raccoon or opossum. How did one tell the difference between the sounds made by a foraging animal and a stalking animal? He held his breath and listened hard, praying he wouldn’t hear growling. It was impossible to calculate the size or weight of the animal by the rustle of grasses and leaves. The sound seemed to come from more than one direction. Was his mind playing tricks on him, or did the stillness of the cold night air alter the sound? There it was again, this time to his left.